I think you were supposed to send a runner.
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Yesterday, first day home, I was feeling a bit sad looking at the blooms that had gone over and the weedy chaos here. Mr Spaghetti had gone for milk and the front of the house was looking so dejected. It was all rather grim.
The row of lilies in pots did have some stunning blooms by way of consolation but so many new ones that we haven't got to see this time - and some fancy gladioli which were new to us.
Here's some pics of the surviving plants.
And one more
Thank you... this is the point really.
I was feeling really sorry for myself and just couldn't see the beauty beyond the weeds.
I was fed up that MrS had left me to look at the garden on my miserable own (and gone off to get milk) (!).
I was struggling to see the beauty of what had survived and then a van pulled up with this beautiful arrangement with a "Welcome Home" message from our children.
How selfish I felt - and i wept buckets of gratitude - I have a husband who loves me, who although exhausted, took himself off "hunter gathering" milk and basics - and a garden that has survived at least in parts inspite of weeds abd drought - and i have the most loving adult children who truly care for us - and send us something of beauty to focus our minds out of the chaos.
Sometimes I just need to remember what we have. ❤️
No button in my box either but I see quite a few people make and sell copies of vintage button boots in UK, so maybe if you give them the size, that can help? Ask a cobbler.
Yes Doodle we had a very nice lunch indeed. Cottage Pie and veg and then something listed as "Jam Rolly Polly"
My preference, if someone is going to give me a fairly solid pud like that, is to have it with a lavish helping of custard but we had just 1 teaspoon of it on the side of the dish. 
Oh Kaimoana - I think you need a custard lake with traditional pudding!
As far as I can tell, the Dick in Spotted comes from an Old English word, possibly dialect, interchangeable with 'dog' (from dough), Spotted Dog.
Various kinds of puds were known as Treacle Dick, Jam Dick etc., but probably very localised. I've never heard of either in West Yorkshire but if they were used in, say, Sussex, only the locals would know it.
Fly Cemeteries were Eccles Cakes when I was a kid - didn't put me off them. They used to be made with butter - no longer alas.
Two good hits there Grammaretto Now don't let your refurbished lawn mower run away with you and knock down the Oak Tree. 
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